Tuesday, May 25, 2004

Fernando and Jesus 6: Convulsions, and Release

The convulsions bit was absolutely terrifying. Once Darlene had made off with the kid (which we never heard from again, making us both wonder later if that had really happened at all), Fernando literally began convulsing. His eyes rolled up in his head, he would drool a bit, and his entire body would go completely rigid.

I was still trying to figure out a way where none of us went to jail, but really just couldn't see any way around it. The screaming had been going on without letup for what felt like forever, and it was LOUD. Even though this was crackville, eventually those crackheads were going to want to go to sleep, and aside from a slight fraying around the edges, Fernando's vocal cords were still going strong.

My body was tiring out. I'm not in the best of shape anyway, and I'd been ingesting pretty much anything that came my way for the preceding couple of months (if you don't count Burning Man, which is patently ridiculous). This, plus the whole heart racing episode with the white pyramid earlier, plus the ecstasy--I was beginning to crash. I found myself looking longingly at the pyramid and its surrounding plateau even more than I looked longingly at the beer. But it might has well have been in East Dallas, because I couldn't move anywhere.

About an hour after the baby insanity, Fernando had calmed down and focused his terrible eyes on me. He was consistently trying to get his legs free, and when that didn't work he'd try and work his arms free to strike at me. Darlene had evidently figured out that it was quieter when she wasn't in the room, and she'd gone back into the dark part of the house to fester. Fernando's outright screaming became grunts of effort punctuated by horrified shrieks whenever I moved much. I was carefully keeping my hair out of range--and Jim had his arms pretty well locked up anyway.

A kind of truce was called. Or really, Fernando gave us a breather. He was still completely terrified of something, but the animal panic was gone.

In between moments of sheer lunacy, Jim and I had been thinking the same thing--namely, that the worst possible thing that can happen to you on a bad acid trip is being restrained. Maybe I'll tell you about that one next...but finally, around 5am or so, Jim voiced what we'd both been thinking:

"Man, maybe he'll calm down if you leave."

I could have kissed him. I had decided that was probably the thing to do, but I would have held that psycho's legs down til I died before I'd let him up. Jim allowed as how he could handle him, now that he was a little tuckered out, so I slowly let go the legs and rolled out of range of his kicks.

Strangely, he didn't kick me, although he didn't take his eyes off of me either. I grabbed a beer and walked out the back door, into the darkness. The cold air felt good--I'd taken my shirt off so Fernando wouldn't tear it up, and even though the beer was warm and foamy I drank it with relish, sitting on the back step.